


Made for the Same Reason

by chibinocho



Category: The Watchmaker of Filigree Street - Natasha Pulley
Genre: Childhood, Coming of Age, M/M, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinocho/pseuds/chibinocho
Summary: They may be different in age, time, ability and experience but really they aren't that different at all.
Relationships: Keita Mori/Thaniel Steepleton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Made for the Same Reason

**Author's Note:**

> So I should have been working, planning and preparing buuuuuut wrote this instead. It may turn into a multi-chapter fic - it depends on whether I have the time or inspiration!

_“Lately he was starting to think that they were surrounded by things that had been made for the same reason” - Watchmaker of Filigree Street_

Thaniel Steepleton never knows his mother. Annabel has a vague memory of a kind lady with a soft voice and grey eyes which he has apparently inherited but she cannot tell him any more than that, being so young herself. Their whole world consists - and has always consisted - of their father and being part of the noisy gaggle of children of the other servants at the manor house who are benignly overseen by the housekeeper. Thaniel often wonders what it would be like to have someone only for him. 

He sits now on the stone edge of one of the fountains. The fountain itself is switched off for the winter and is glazed in ice, the edges sparkling like blades around him. Thaniel watches the other children throwing snowballs at each other in the lower gardens, rejoicing in free time until their chores and duties pull them back into the adult world again. However, Thaniel does not want to join in with the games. He is still one of the younger ones of the group and that makes him a prime target to be planted face down in the snow and he knows his afternoon’s duty is going to be collecting and pulling in firewood so the thought of going into that job with already cold, wet clothes leaves him shivering at the thought.

Instead he pleads the beginnings of a cold and remains sitting by the fountain watching with his mitten-covered hands firmly planted under his arms. Annabel is in the midst of the fray, twirling round in her buff-coloured coat like a veritable snow maiden from a fairy tale. Five years older than Thaniel, she is twelve now and is growing taller day by day, starting to show signs of becoming a woman. She is proud of her growing accomplishments, being one of the only girls in the manor who can read and write well and she has boasted to Thaniel of writing menus and place settings for dinner parties and dreams of working in the manor and marrying well. She is happy in this growing world and her place in it.

Thaniel wishes he had that easy happiness and contentment. Instead it is quickly dawning on his eight year old self that no matter how accomplished he is at his lessons, how fast he is at arithmetic, reading and writing, he will never be more than the son of a gamekeeper. His father praises him for his learning but praises him far more when he loads a hunting rifle quickly and correctly or shoots game cleanly. The Duke’s youngest son - who occasionally comes down to lord it over the other boys - has also told him that no matter how many books he reads, he will always be a servant. Nothing more.

Thaniel leans against the stone statue and watches his breath mist in the air. He often sits here. It is the nearest seating place to the drawing room and already he can hear the Duchess practising on the pianoforte. She is playing Chopin’s Nocturnes today and Thaniel can already see the music blending in his vision rippling like waves all wonderful shades of green and blue. He doesn’t tell anyone that he can see sound. He gets the feeling he would be treated as even more of an outcast than he already is and it would be more than just snowballs to the back of his head. But here in the quiet of the garden by the fountain he can move himself gently to the music, lost in the whorls of the colours. He feels his fingers twitch within the rough wool of his mittens, tickling against his sides.

It is later that day Thaniel and his father are summoned to a sudden meeting with the Duke and Duchess. His father is planly worried and stares at Thaniel all the way up to drawing room as if Thaniel is due to be whipped for some misdemeanor. Thaniel quakes and tries to recall if he has been bad. He cannot think of anything. They are admitted to the drawing room and his father immediately bows his head low as he enters and apologises before the Duke and Duchess can open their mouths, twisting his cap in his clenched hands. The Duchess - an elegant woman with a gentle bearing, immaculate dress and a voice the colour of ivory - then silences him with a raised hand and a kind smile. To Thaniel’s shock, she explains that she has noticed him listening to the music, studying the keys through the window and would young Steepleton like to learn piano as a companion for their younger children? 

Suddenly, it is like a window opening to another world and golden sunshine cascading through. He smiles beatifically as the woman, hoping that his smile says what his closed up throat cannot. All of a sudden Thaniel feels there could be more than just being a servant.

* * *

  
  


Keita Mori never knows his mother, only that she shamed herself in the conception of him and took her own life in exchange and that he resembles her so closely it is like seeing a ghost. He is told this by his nursemaids and even his eight year old self wonders exactly what the purpose is in telling a child their mother killed themselves the day they were born and that her child is like a ghost. But he learns quickly that shame and honour are core parts of the world he lives in and he adapts and adapts well. 

He sits on a stone bench in one of the gardens and watches his older brothers play kemari. Kemari - he recalls - is supposed to be an elegant game where players keep the ball in the air but his brothers seem to be taking great pleasure in making it competitive in trying to snatch the ball from each other. They jostle and push each other trying to be the one to keep it up in the air and dust from the earth swirls around their wooden sandals, darkening the hems of their yukata. The nursemaids and servants will grumble later he knows. On one level Keita wishes he could play too, the game looks light-hearted, fun and appealing but he also knows that as soon as he tries to join, it won't.

Keita is starting to realise that other people don't see things as he does. He can see things happen before they do. At first he wondered if it was dreaming or ghosts - Hagi castle is said to be haunted and Keita is sure he can see wispy figures in the corridors and rooms on stormy nights - but then he realised that he could instead see what was going to happen. Actually he was realising that he could actually see the different ways something could happen. When Lord Mori arrived back from his latest appointments at the court Keita could suddenly see that his father was either going to order a beating or a reward to his lieutenant all depending on whether his saké was the correct temperature. It had not been. 

Keita continues watching his brothers. He can see that his second oldest brother - the burliest of the five - has changed tactics and is becoming more devious in his movements. He is pushing harder, aiming at the younger ones and seeking to catch feet and ankles. Keita then wonders if he can not just see futures but change futures. He looks at a stone at his feet and thinks about making a carefully aimed throw at his brother's foot. At then he sees it clearly: the stone would catch his brother's ankle, tripping him into the dirt causing no end of humiliation.

He flicks the stone.

His brother stumbles at the impact, looking to swear at the trivial pain but unable to as he trips on his shoes and lands hard in the dust. His face and hair is smeared in brown and as soon as the others turn to see him down, the laughter starts. The kemari ball falls to the ground as the others begin jostling and teasing their fallen sibling. His brother glowers and shoves back but then his eye falls on Keita and Keita sees his intention. He knows Keita was somehow involved and that he will have his revenge. After all, Keita is a bastard. Nothing more.

It is later that day during their archery practice. Keita may only be a skinny boy of eight and the youngest but he knows that his skill of preempting future actions has given him some talent at the archery butts. He stands in a line with his brothers, each aiming to take a centre hit. Only his second-oldest brother has managed to get anywhere near the bull’s eye with a clean shot that is only slightly to the left of the centre and has been lording it over his siblings. Keita cannot help himself, eager to prove his skills with the typical arrogance of a young child who had discovered an advantage, he reads the possible futures involving changes of position, height and tension in the bowstring and aims at the butt, letting the arrow fly. The arrow strikes neatly and perfectly into the centre of the target.

Keita then immediately realises his mistake and doesn't need clairvoyance to know the oncoming rage of his second-eldest brother. It is at this point where Keita realises the dangers of seeing possible futures. His brother’s outright single intention is to humiliate him badly by loosing an arrow near enough to scare him to tears and is raising his bow already. Keita knows that there is no future where humiliation would bode well for him. He shudders at the severe beating he will be dealt if he doesn't react to the arrow. Instead he steps backwards three measured paces towards the archery tutor, near one of his father's retainers who has come to watch the famous Mori sons at practice. The wooden tipped arrow flies straight and true but thanks to Keita's steps it pierces through the soft flesh of his shoulder.

"Young master!" The tutors voice is horrified as Keita buckles to his knees. The pain is indescribable. Already he can see the one of the maids coming towards him, the horror plain on her face.

He puts his hand around the arrow feeling blood ooze warm and sticky between his fingers. It hurts. Really hurts. But the hurt dims in comparison to the ruthless delight of seeing Lord Mori's retainer hauling his brother off by the ear shouting about honour and calling for a fresh bamboo switch to be cut. His brother would be in agony for days with no treatment, Keita would be held up as an example of stoicism and bravery losing his battle but ultimately winning the war. 

Suddenly, it is like a window opening to an endless world of possibilities and a steel-bright star of hope is glinting at him. He smiles gently to himself despite the pain and all of a sudden Keita feels there could be more than just being a bastard.


End file.
